


The Captain, The Sergeant, & Their Lieutenant

by silverlysilence



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - 1940s, Captain America: The First Avenger, Complete, Gen, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-11
Updated: 2016-08-11
Packaged: 2018-08-08 00:37:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,830
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7736275
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silverlysilence/pseuds/silverlysilence
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve Rogers, the future Captain America, had not one dark haired mouthy punk of a best friend while growing up in Brooklyn but two.  See how this changes the future for not only him but Bucky Barnes as well when they befriend the small, brown eyed scruffy Tony.  Hydra better watch out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Captain, The Sergeant, & Their Lieutenant

**Author's Note:**

> Still not in a happy mood about Civil War, hence this came about. That and I just wanted Tony to be alive in the 1940s. Please enjoy.

Steve believed in God. He would go as far as saying as he was religious but not to the extreme; he was nothing like the zealots he ran into the few times in his youth in the streets of Brooklyn and he definitely wasn’t like those the zealots he met as Captain America.  However, those zealots were a bit different than the kind of his youth, they didn’t have red faces for one thing.  Still, he believed in God and he'd like to think that He had placed Tony in his path that day. 

Tony would disagree with him, pointing out it was just a chance meeting. No one had put them in each other’s path and there had been no force meeting. Steve would just smile fondly and nodded as the brunet would rant on and on about the absurdity of some higher power forcing them together, because Tony was a scientist and didn’t believe in anything without proof. Yet, late at night, during his silent prays, he would thank God for the both of them.

The day started out like any other for his twelve-year-old self which to say included being beaten to a pulp behind the hardware store by two ruffians who had taken offense after he commented on the way they were treating the nice dame behind the counter. What was different was the clattering of metal bits and bobs clattering against one another loud enough to catch all their attention. The bullies momentarily let up in their beat down to glance behind them for the source of the noise and found it in the form of a battered wagon being pulled around the corner by a small figure. 

The momentary reprieve allowed pained blue eyes to peep up through blood stained locks of blond hair and into the softest pair of brown eyes blinking rapidly from behind dark bangs plaster against the boy's head due to the worn wool cap pulled tightly around his ears.

When those brown eyes met his own and the boy from Brooklyn watched as the child tilt his head to the side before his eyes narrowed as realization dawned on him.  His little cheeks puffed up as he took in a breath and Steve thought the dark haired boy was going to scream.  Instead, the brown eyed child dropped the handle to his wagon and marched right over to the bullies twice his size.

"Let him go," the demand came in a higher than expected pitch.

"Kid-" which was as far as the one who had been punching Steve got before the child continued on, speaking right over the burly teenager.

"Nope.  Nu-uh, see here, you're going to let him go and go on your merry way because in... oh, I don't know, five minutes? The flatfeet following me to make sure I’m not up to no good will come around the corner and they take one look at this situation here before taking out their baton and breaking this little shindig up with even more brunt force than you lot have kindly given him," the little boy prattled on, crossing his arms over the worn woolen coat which was missing all of its buttons, showing off what might have once been a white shirt but now was grey with grunge.  

"You're lying," the one with his arms still hooked under Steve's armpits and locking the blond in pace in an effort to keep him still while his buddy got his licks in spoke up. The slight tremor in his voice spoke differently. 

"Maybe I am. Maybe I'm not, but are you willing to take the chance that I might be lying when the flatfeet are right behind me?"

The two bullies took one look at each other and before he knew what was happening, the ground was rushing up to meet his face and the two loudmouths disappeared around the opposite corner the small boy had come from.  It took Steve a moment to catch his breath – damn his asthma – and brace his hands to push himself up when a gloved hand with three out of the five fingers missing was shoved in front of his face. Looking up into huge brown eyes filled with curiosity and concern in equal portions, he was frozen on the spot.

Then he took the offered hand, sealing his fate.

* * *

"I hate you," Steve huffed as he ran a few steps behind the younger boy who was – much to Steve's ire – an inch taller than him.

"No you don't," Tony half-gasped, half-chuckled as they darted around a corner and away from the hoard of cats chasing them. 

He couldn't even begin to figure out how they got into this mess, but Steve knew it had been all the brunet's fault.  Tony would later disagree, stating it had been Steve who had stepped on the cat's tail but the blond knew otherwise, because that had been only one cat.  The rest of the felines chasing them were all Tony's fault.

"I want a dog."

"What?" the blond stumbled over a crack in the sidewalk at the non sequitur comment, almost falling flat on his face.  Thankfully, Tony chose that moment to grab hold of his arm and jerk him through a door, slamming it behind him.

"A dog, if Mrs. R ever allows me a pet, I'm going to get a dog.  Cats are just evil," Tony rambles as he leans up against the door, trying to catch a breath. Steve rolled his eyes, knowing that Mrs. R would never let the brunet have any kind of animal.  He might not have even met the woman who was apparently Tony's caregiver – an aunt of sorts from what he had gathered, since his mother had died and Tony never talked about his father – but he knew she would never allow him to have a pet. Tony could barely remember to feed himself, let alone take care of something else.

Noticing Tony cocking his head to the side to get a good look around the shop they had taken sanctuary in, Steve followed his gaze and found himself dwarfed by various large bookshelves.  Most of the shelves were covered with battered old books while a few had little trinkets and what appeared to be pieces of junk to his untrained eye that were displayed with the intent to catch passersby’s eyes in the hopes the pieces would sell.

"Can I help you?" the strict voice of an older woman pulled blue eyes away from the spines of the books, reading their titles and wishing he had some spare coin to purchase even the secondhand copies, and to the obvious owner of the store. 

The woman wasn't tall yet she seemed larger with an aura of confidence along with a measure of disapproval she projected outward. Not to mention her stance was slightly intimidating with the hard lines on her face and Steve was inexplicably reminded of his mother. This was a woman who was not to be trifled with and in response, he found himself subconsciously straightening up to make a better impression.

"Yes ma'am," Tony piped up for the both of them, somehow making the _ma'am_ sound perfectly respectful while his indifference shown through at the same time.  "We noticed the hiring sign in the window," a finger was jabbed towards a small cardboard sign propped up in one of the display cases, "and were hoping the opening was still available." 

Steve's head whipped over towards the brunet who was busy adjusting his ever present hat on his head, tucking a few stray curls back up into the wool from where they’d fallen in the mad dash to escape the cats.  Because of this, the younger boy failed to see the disbelief in wide blue eyes or Steve’s mouth opening and closing without making a sound. 

Tony never showed any inclination of looking for a job.  However, Steve had. 

After his last bout of sickness – which had been caused by standing out in a light drizzle selling papers – he had lost his job. It really hadn’t paid all that well and his mother had said not to worry, they were getting by just fine without him doing odd jobs in between school. Steve knew otherwise. 

"I'm sorry, but we're looking for someone a little... older," the disapproving look vanishing from her face upon hearing they weren’t ruffians looking for a five finger discount and gave them a well-mannered, if strained, smile.  However, even Steve understood what she didn’t say as critical eyes rolled up and down his frame, after giving Tony a briefly glancing over.  He tried to smile courteously, because he knows what she sees. It’s what everyone sees.  A frail, waif of a boy who’d be knocked over by the slightest gust of wind.

Due to Steve hunching in on himself, he missed brown eyes narrowing which was usually his sign to pull Tony away with an apology on his lips and a hasty retreat before thing became worse.  "I'm ten, plenty old enough to work at an antiques shop, stacking books and dusting shelves and I can use a stepstool to reach the shelves above my head," the woman closed her mouth which had been opening, "besides, the job's for him," a finger was jabbed into Steve's chest, "and he's thirteen. A hardworking, responsible teenager who is just looking for a few extra coins to help his mum out."

Twenty minutes later, Steve and Tony left the shop – the cats no longer waiting to attack them, thankfully – with instructions to return the next week for Steve's first day.  Mrs. Walker, the owner of _Brooklyn Antiques_ , was nice enough once Steve really got to talk to her without Tony’s constant interruptions and she was delighted to work around his schedule. Better yet, she wasn't turned off by his shy admittance that he might have to take days at a time off due to health reasons. She had just smiled fondly at the honesty and told him if they were having slow days, he was more than welcome to help himself to reading some of the books they had in the shop if he promised not to damage them. It was the perfect job.

"Tony?"

"Yeah?"

"You just turned nine and my birthday isn't until July."

"Which is what? Two-three months away? That’s right around the corner! You’ll be fine," Tony hummed happily as they fell into a comfortable silence, making their way down the streets and back towards where the younger boy was forced to ditch his wagon due to the attacking cats.

"Tony," Steve broke the silence again when they reached the alleyway where Tony’s wagon waiting for him, filled to the brim with pieces of wire and broken parts he scrounged through the garbage for. It wasn’t a wonder why no one had tried to claim it as their own while they’d been gone, it would have been more likely the trash collectors would have taken the wagon than anyone stealing it.

"Yeah?"

"How did you get those cats to chase us exactly to that shop?"

"That's a secret!"

* * *

Steve thought his two best friends first meeting could have gone better. Then again, it was his fault since he told James all about Tony and he’d failed to say anything to Tony about James. Thus, James had a slight advantage when they finally met up in front of the soda shop. Steve had seen the younger boy immediately, it was hard not to when he was pulling his wagon full of scraps behind him and immediately he waved the brunet over.

Tony had cautiously greeted him, eyeing the larger teenager by the blond’s side. James definitely picked up on the smaller brunet’s wariness and waited for an appropriate opening to hold out his hand with a bland smile on his face.

“Hi, I’m James.”

Tony took one look at the hand and then up at the taller teen’s lackluster smile, frowning. “You can’t be James, I already have a James. Pick something else.”

“What?” James blinked a few times as his hand fell to his side, but the indifference in his eyes was gone, replaced with befuddlement and a tad of curiosity. “But-but-but _that’s my name!_ ”

“Nope, nuh-uh, James – _my_ James – is already James, you can’t be James too,” the smaller brunet waved him off and turned his attention towards Steve. “Nice seeing you Steve, but I’ve got to get goin’. Mr. Downey at the junk shop promised to give me whatever parts were left over from the film projector he’s fixing for Mr. Evan down at the theater. So, gotta go. Nice meeting you, Steve’s friend.”

“My Name is _James!_ ” the teenager shouted as Tony hurried passed them with his wagon, but the smaller boy must not have heard him in his rush or – more likely in Steve’s humble opinion – he ignored James.

If things had left off at that, Steve had a feeling his two best friends would be at each other’s throats for the rest of his days. Something he hadn’t been looking forward to as he parted way with James. But things hadn’t end there for the two brunets and while Steve went to work, Tony ended up with a knife to his throat for the half of a projector’s worth of parts in his wagon. James, who’d been on his way home, had stumbled across the scene and found himself fighting off the mugger with the scrappy little boy who fought _dirty_.

Once the fight was over, the brunets found themselves doubled over, panting heavily with only a split lip and a black eye between the two of them watching with victorious smirks on their face as the would be mugger ran.

“Okay,” Tony huffed out, grimacing as he licked the blood off his lip. “You are officially my new favorite.”

“Does that mean you’ll call me James now?” James asked in between huffs of air, glancing over at the shorter boy. He appeared to think it over as they pick up the overturned wagon and began filling it with its spilled contents, but in the end, the younger brunet shook his head negatively.

“Mm, no. Can’t do, James saved my life first-”

_“This wasn’t your first near death experience?!”_

Tony continued talking as if he hadn’t been interrupted, “-but so did you, which puts you on equal footing,” he continued to ramble on more to himself than to James, “I guess I could call James Rhodey instead. It does have a nice ring to it, what’s your last name?”

“Huh?” James snapped out of just staring at the boy dumbfounded. “Uh, Barnes.”

“Barnes,” Tony’s face scrunched up in frustration, “Barnesy? No, doesn’t sound right. Barney? Absolutely not,” the scowl on the little boy’s face deepened, which looked cute on him. Not that James was going to say anything, especially not when the determined brown eyes turned back on him. “This is not helping. Full name.”

“Huh? Oh, uh, James. James Buchanan Barnes.”

“Buchanan? Really? Wait, that’s perfect! _Bucky!_ That’s _it_ , from here on out, James can be Rhodey and you can be Bucky so no one can say I’m playing favorites by calling either of you James.”

“You could have called us both James,” James pointed out.

“No, no I couldn’t, you’re Bucky and that’s final,” and it really was.

* * *

Steve had been lucky that in the time he’d befriended Tony, he hadn’t gotten extremely sick. There had been a few coughing fits here and there from his asthma, the fever which lost him the paperboy job, but nothing that laid him up for weeks at a time. His luck ran out a two weeks after his thirteenth birthday when he had caught a cold in summer. Bucky – because the name had stuck much to the older teenager’s ire – had said if anyone could have caught a cold in summer, he knew it would have been Steve. In retaliation, he tried to punch the brunet in the shoulder but only succeeded in falling out of bed.

However, he was surprised when Bucky – who had been kind enough to picked up Steve’s pay for the week – passed on a message from Mrs. Walker. Apparently, Tony had waited outside of _Brooklyn Antique_ after his shift was supposed to end for the last few days, only to leave when after an hour of waiting, Steve never showed. The poor child – Bucky was adamant to point out those were Mrs. Walker’s words, not his – had looked so depressed and disappointed as he pulled his wagon behind him each evening. Until Mrs. Walker felt the need to confront the child, explaining to Tony that Steve was sick and wasn’t avoiding him.

Steve felt a bit guilt for not being there for younger boy and forced a promise out of Bucky to find him to further explain things. Bucky had agreed rather quickly which meant he too was at least a tidbit guilty since the laid up blond didn’t have to pull out any of his blackmail material. In all honesty, neither one of them had thought about Tony since Steve had gotten sick because it had always been the two of them for the longest of times.

Both of the Brooklyn boys had gathered much about Tony through the things he didn’t say than the things he was constantly prattling on about. One such lack of topics was the younger brunet didn’t have any friends. There was the other James – Rhodey – who was Mrs. R’s son, but from how Tony talked about him, he was more of a brother figure than a friend. They were his only friends and they’d forgotten about him. Some friends they were turning out to be.

Bucky never got the chance to deliver the message, because not long after the older teen left and Sarah Rogers – a kind hearted nurse with sandy blonde hair and a smile that lit up the room no matter how tired she appeared – returned from her shift at the hospital, a tentative knock echoed throughout the Rogers’ small apartment. Sarah, who had been going through the lacking pantry cupboards to prepare a meal, had quickly gone to the door when she heard her son attempting to get up off the couch only to end up with him wheezing and sinking further into the flatten cushions.

“No, stay there, Stevie. I got it,” Sarah instructed her son with her best ‘you better do as I say voice or else’ before opening the door as far as the security chain would allow her. “Can I help you?”

“Hi!” the familiar voice had Steve shooting upright, the wheezing turning into a coughing fit. “Um, this is where Steve lives, right? I’m sorry to bother you if it isn’t but I know Steve lives around here, but I’m not exactly sure where and there was this man in the foyer who pointed me up here since you’re the only Rogers to live in this building and I had already come this far and I didn’t want to give up, but I don’t want to bother you either-”

“Sweetie, it’s alright,” Sarah interjected when the child outside her door took a breath in order to continue. A tiny bemused smile crawling over her exhausted features as doe brown eyes ducked down to hide the flush spreading across pale cheeks. “Steve does live here, but he’s sick right now and shouldn’t be having any visitors.”

“I know that ma’am-Mrs. Rogers-ma’am,” Steve could hear Tony stumbling over his words and for once, he thought he could hear real respect coming from Tony instead of the usual distain he held for people in general. Not that he blamed the younger boy, they did end up running into a lot of bullies who picked on them for their small sizes. “Mrs. Walker from the antique shop told me and Mrs. R, I mean Mrs. Rhodes, always tells me the best thing for a cold is chicken soup and I wanted to bring him some so he’ll get better, but I’m not allowed to use the stove unless Mrs. Rhodes is home and she’s not home right now. So, I- um... went to Mr. O’Malley’s and fixed a few things for him at his butcher shop in exchange for some chicken and thought maybe you could- um... make Steve some soup with it? Ah- here.”

Sarah’s heart melted a little bit when the child picked up the large brown paper bag and offered it out to her. “That’s very kind of you sweetie, but you didn’t have to.”

“But I wanted to,” the insistence was blurted out without consent judging by the way the child’s cheeks flushed a brighter red than before. “Steve woulda done the same for me.”

“He would have,” Sarah agreed and as much as she felt guilty for accepting handouts from others, especially the cute dark haired child at her door, she found herself quickly closing the door to undo the security chain in order to take the offered bag of food. Because this wasn’t charity, this was a gift to a friend. “Thank you, would you like to stay for dinner?”

“I appreciate the offer, but I must decline, Mrs. Rhodes’s going to be home soon and I gotta get back. Thank you, and please tell Steve I hope he gets better soon.”

“I will,” Sarah was slightly surprise at the formal wording of the apology, but chalked it up to the child’s nervousness. “And thank you again, Sweetie.”

“You’re welcome, ma’am.”

Sarah waited to close the door until she’d seen the child make it safely to the stairs and even then, she listened for little feet pound down the stairs before locking the door. Turning back around, she found her son sitting up on the couch, obviously eavesdropping judging by the way he was leaning over the armrest closest to the door. A look of reproach had Steve shuffling back down into a lying position and pulling the blanket back over his shivering form.

“Want to fill me in on who that was?” Sarah asked as she made her way back into the kitchen and started pulling the food out of the paper bag because there wasn’t just chicken in there as she had first assumed.

There were two packages wrapped in butcher paper which had O’Malley’s messy handwriting to indicate one contained a whole chicken while the other held bones she could use for a broth. Next out of the bag were some carrots, a few sticks of celery, and an onion. She had thought that was all until her fingers brushed up against a small container of flour and half a dozen eggs with a piece of paper on top written in Ms. Riley’s – the cashier at the market – neat script listing the ingredients scattered across her kitchen counter. Checkmarks to the side to indicate what had been picked up while there were a few left uncheck but had little notation assuming ‘Steve’s mother might already have the spices’ in a different handwriting.

“That’s Tony,” Steve’s voice floated in from the other room as she got out a large pot and threw the bones in, filling with water and putting it on the stove on the highest possible setting. A good broth needed time to simmer and leech out all of the nutrition from the bones; however, this late, she’d have to make due with boiling the bones on high and adding extra seasonings for the flavor.

Humming to acknowledge she heard Steve, Sarah began to dice up the vegetables for the broth. “Tony? Is that short for something?”

“I don’t know,” and she could hear her boy shrugging his shoulders and shifting on the couch, the old piece of furniture creaking under the strain. “Anthony? Antonio, maybe? He does look a little Italian but I’ve never asked.”

Sarah immediately creased chopping the onion, laying the knife to the side in order to march her way into the living room to face her son. “Steven Grant Rogers, tell me you do not think that cute little sweetheart of a child is a _boy_!”

The first time Steve got sick while friends with Tony was also the first time he realized Tony was in fact a girl.

* * *

Steve was mollified when Bucky learned of Tony’s gender. At least he didn’t end up on the ground, clutching his balls as said girl stormed away angrily with her wagon trailing behind her. The lecturing his mother gave him seemed tamed in comparison.

* * *

Neither Bucky nor Steve ever forgot Tony was a girl after that per se. But they didn’t treat her any different either – not after The Incident That Bucky Refused to Talk About and yes Steve, the capital letters were necessary – then again, she wasn’t like any of the dames either. She continued to wear her cap, the brim hiding her delicate features while her dark hair was hidden to the point Steve and Bucky never knew if she had long locks of hair bunched up inside of the hat or if her hair was just cut short. Makeup wasn’t something that crossed her face unless they’d considered smudges of oil and grease as makeup and her clothes consisted of casts offs which were clearly meant for the male form and had to be rolled up to fit her.

When puberty hit, the baby fat around her face disappeared leaving behind a soft feminine face and the hint of breasts underneath her layers of clothing which very few of the other boys in the neighbor took notice of. Even less tried to act upon their new found knowledge of Tony’s feminine side, but in the end, the brunette was far too independent, too headstrong, too willful for them to handle and they wouldn’t bother with her.

Puberty hadn’t passed by Bucky either. He had grown and grown and grown until he was towering over both Tony and Steve. Boxing had become his hobby and he started going to the YMCA every week to watch the other boxers and emulate their moves until one of the instructors took notice of him. Harold Hogan, or Happy as Tony called him, took the time to personal trained Bucky and even paid for him to entered a couple of the welterweight boxing tournaments the YMAC held. Steve and Tony would go to cheer him on during the tournaments and Tony came out of them with a lot more cash than she entered with. Her bets were always on Bucky because he’d never let her down.

Steve, on the other hand, was sorely disappointed with puberty. While his voice had depended and hair started growing in places it hadn’t before, nothing else changed. He grew maybe a few inches, yet he was still the shortest of the trio. His limbs had more in common with twigs than any human appendage should have and regardless of Bucky best efforts to take him to the gym, he just didn’t seem to gain any muscle mass. More often than not, he’d wound up either tiring himself out or having an asthma attack; neither of which were practically enjoyable.

It didn’t matter because the three of them were always there for each other. When Tony had applied to various engineer colleges only to be rejected because she was a girl, Bucky and Steve had held her back from going there to eviscerate them. Although, the both of them would have been happy to be doing the eviscerating themselves if given the chance. Instead, Steve had come up with the brilliant plan to submit her portfolio and apply for correspondence classes while accidentally on purpose forgetting to fill in her gender on the application forms.

Tony got four offers to attend higher institutions with a full ride and countless others eager to accommodate her wish for correspondence classes. Steve had received a kiss on the cheek when she received the letter from MIT that had him blushing so hard Bucky almost passed out from lack of air due to his laughter. He quickly shut up and blushed even redder than Steve when Tony gave him the same treatment.

The day Bucky’s youngest sister died from pneumonia, Steve spent the entire time holding the punching bag as the teenager took out his frustration and pain through his fists. Tony, on the other hand, had disappeared only to return late into the evening with an envelope full of bills that she was tight lipped about where they came from and wouldn’t met their eyes when asked. The money was more than enough to cover the medical and funeral costs with a little left over.

After seeing the cash, Bucky had broken down and cried in their arms for the first time since his sister’s death. Steve wasn’t sure if it was from the grief of his sister’s death finally catching up to him, the relief of the monetary burden being lifted, the thought of what Tony had done to get the money, or if it wasn’t just a combination of it all crashing down on him at once. Either way, the three spent the night wrapped around each other in Bucky’s bed.

Bucky had returned the favor of being a shoulder to lean on for Steve when Sarah had passed away. Despite his grief, Steve hadn’t let Tony out of his sight. Kept a tight hand on her wrist at one point so she couldn’t sneak off. Regardless, his mother medical bills and funeral costs were covered and the teenager girl wasn’t speaking where the money had come from. Steve didn’t speak to her for a week.

* * *

“You just don’t know when to give up, do ya?”

“I can do this all day,” Steve got back up and face the bully, brushing the blood off his face with the back of his shirt sleeve before holding up his fist like Bucky had taught him.

Blue eyes glanced up at the tall, meaty man who’d taken him out back behind the theater. His tan suit jacket was already beginning to stain from the filth on the ground and the white shirt underneath surely was discolored due to the blood dripping down his chin. He could already feel bruise blossoming across his face from the lickings he had taken, but he wasn’t backing down.

“What do you think you’re doing?” the taller man whirled around to see the slight figure storming down the alleyway. The heavy woolen coat and faded brimmed cap concealed the more feminine features which her too large clothing failed to hide. If Steve didn’t know Tony as well as he did, he would have thought her homeless with the ragged gloves missing fingers and the worn, secondhand clothing.

“This-” was as far as the bully got before Tony was ducking down to avoid the outstretched hand, jabbing her small fist into his kidney, and coming out behind the man while he doubled over.

“Steve, I’ve told you time and time again, your size is only a disadvantage if you allow it to be. You need to use your petite stature to your advantage,” Tony chastised, pulling Steve up straighter and began fixing his suit, brushing the dirt off his shoulders and adjusting the lapels of his jacket.

Her efforts went to waste when Steve surged forward, grabbing Tony by the waist and spinning around so it was him who took the blow to the back instead of her. A yelp – a mixture of surprise and discomfort – followed by a groan of pain echoed throughout the alley as the bully landed another blow to the blond’s back.

“Hey!” Bucky’s angry tone rent the air and Steve more heard than saw the taller man yank the bully off of him. “Pick on someone your own size.”

Glancing behind him, blue eyes watched as Bucky – in full army uniform – dodge a wide swing and delivered his own right hook to the idiot’s face. The man spun around from the force of the blow, but the angry brunet wasn’t letting up and used the opening to literally kick the man in the ass, sending him scrabbling towards the exit. Bucky stood there, watching the man until he was out of sight before turning around to face his friends.

“Tony, what have I told you about turning your back on idiots like those? They aren’t going to play fair,” the brunet scolded her as Steve pulled back, allowing Tony to stand up straight.

The young woman didn’t bother to look at Bucky as she straightened her cap and sweeping a lock of hair back underneath all in one motion. “Everything was under control before you butted in, right Steve?”

“We had him on the ropes,” Steve found himself agreeing when doe brown eyes turned to him for support.

“Sometimes I think you like getting punched,” Bucky grumbled reaching down with the hand unoccupied by a roll of papers and retrieved a slip of paper Steve dropped earlier in the scuffle.

Tony’s eyes immediately were drawn by the action and she peered over the brunet’s arm to get a good look at the official document. “Paramus, really? You seriously picked Jersey, Steve? Didn’t your Brooklyn accent give you away?”

Bucky gave her a look of reproached – though he was obviously thinking the same thing, at least for the Jersey part – before turning his disapproving stare towards Steve and waved the papers in his hand at the blond. “You know it’s illegal to lie on the enlistment form.”

Instead of being concerned with the comment, blue eyes latched on to the office documents underneath his 4F paper. “You get your orders?”

The military officer, because it was obviously official now, hesitated before holding his head up high. “The 107th. Sergeant James Barnes, shipping out for England first thing tomorrow.”

“I should be going.” Tony cuffed Steve upside the head which had him quickly amending his statement with a side long glance at the brunette at his side. “We should all be going.”

“Damn right, we should.”

“They don’t allow dames to go off to war,” the soldier rolled his eyes and looked towards the blond who was busy rubbing his head and upon seeing Bucky looking his way, shook his head, shrugging helplessly. They’d all had this very conversation multiple times before. “Which shouldn’t be a problem, you ain’t no dame.”

“Jerk,” Tony slugged him one in the arm, only half playfully judging by the way Bucky rubbed the area afterwards.

“Hey, that’s my line.”

She then rounded on Steve and slapped him upside the head again to crease poorly concealed snorts of laughter. “Punk.”

“And that would be my line.”

“Why am I still friends with either of you?”

Steve and Bucky shared a look and muttered in complete unison. “Brat.”

“Okay, enough of that; come on, you two,” Bucky hooked his arms over each of their shoulders, pulling the smaller two to his side as he lead them out of the alley. “My last night! We’re going to celebrate in style.”

* * *

Tony never saw either Steve or Bucky after taking them out for the best cheeseburgers in Brooklyn. She had a prior engagement which she volunteered to cancel, but Bucky insisted that he and Steve needed some male bonding time. Tony wasn’t an idiot, she knew that meant he’d gotten them both dates and wasn’t wanted around because she was a girl. She said as much, eyes rolling, before leaving them at Steve’s place to get cleaned up with the expectation of getting together with her blond friend the next day to get all the details of where him and Bucky had gone that she wasn’t wanted.

He never showed up.

* * *

When Steve met Agent Peggy Carter for the first time, his first thought was beautiful. Her ruby red lips reminded him of the one time he’d seen Tony wearing makeup after she’d gotten back from a date with the pompous prick Tiberius Stone on a cold winter night. She’d looked strange wearing a long trench coat – obviously Ty’s – and her usual worn cap, the two articles of clothing classing horribly with each other but she’d pulled it off. Steve hadn’t known how to feel about her looking so feminine, _so delicate_ , in the expensive article of clothing engulfing her small frame and both he and Bucky had been happy to pawn the ugly coat off when Tony broke up with the bastard.

His second thought was of how much he missed Tony which led him to his third thought of missing Bucky. However, when Peggy punched the mouthy recruit in the face, Steve forgot all about missing dark haired friends. The smile that she sent his way after retrieving the flag had him smiling sheepishly for the rest of the day and the look she gave him after throwing himself of the dummy grenade had his stomaching doing flip-flops for the next week.   Alas, Steve made a fool of himself on the car ride to the lab Project Rebirth would take place and he feared he lost any hope of finding the right dance partner.

His embarrassment was overshadowed by the revaluation that Mrs. Walker was an agent for the Strategic Scientific Reserve. Her antique shop a front for them and probably had been since before he started working there as a child. Tony would have crooned in triumph glee. She’d always suspected there was something fishy about the elderly woman and would constantly make up ridiculously theories about Mrs. Walker. Steve had always brushed it off as her imagination.

He was going to have to apologize.

* * *

Getting use to a new body was hard enough after losing Dr. Erskine, but becoming Senator Brandt’s lapdog? That was worse. At least now he now knew why Tony insisted on calling them all asshats. It was just another thing he’d have to apologize to her for.

* * *

Steve had finally made it to the front lines – well five miles from the front lines – only to be booed off the stage in favor of the USO girls. Not that he could really blame the men. After his brief reunion with Peggy, he’d learned they were all that was left of 107th Infantry and Colonel Phillips confirmed his worst fears. Sergeant James Barnes was missing in action, presumed dead.

It was his breaking point. He couldn’t leave Bucky there, not when there was a chance – ever the slightest of chances – his best friend was alive. Steve wouldn’t have forgiven himself, which was how he found himself sitting across from Peggy on an airplane piloted by Howard Stark wearing a cobbled together parody of his USO costume and a soldier’s uniform.

“You’re gonna be in a lot of trouble when you land,” Steve stated after Peggy finished giving him all the details the SSR currently had on the factory the POWs were being kept in.

“And you wouldn’t?”

“Where I’m going, if anybody yells at me, I can just shoot them,” the blond gave a lopsided smile, not comfortable with the idea of taking a life but knowing he would if it meant the difference between life and death.

“They will undoubtable shoot back,” Peggy deadpanned.

“Well, let’s hope it’s good for something,” Steve rapped his knuckles against the shield the USO’s quartermaster had given him. Despite it being only a prop, the thing was made of quality materials and not the flimsy tin he’d expected when he’d first seen the shield.

“I noticed a distinct lack of concern for my well-being taking place here,” Stark shouted over the roar of the engine.

“No offense sir, but I know the kind of shit you get up to on a regular basis and this doesn’t even come close to some of thing things you do in your own backyard.”

“You’ve been following me in the paps, Rogers? I must say, I wouldn’t have pegged you as the type,” the quip paired with a cheeky smile sent his way only had Steve shrugging, because the man was right. He wasn’t the type.

“’I’m not, but a friend of mine collects articles about you. Has a whole notebook filled up with your designs, trying to reverse engineer them and improve them in some cases,” the blond smile fondly, realizing just then he’d met the man Tony had been infatuated for years. Bucky would groan whenever a new article on Howard Stark made the front pages because Tony would spend the day ranting and raving about the man’s inventions.

“Really? Improved you say? I wouldn’t mind meeting this friend of yours, I’m always in need of good men at Stark Industries. If you make it through this, have him send me some of his work and I’ll take a look at it.”

“I’m sure she’d appreciate that,” Steve grinned when the man startled at the pronoun.

“A dame? Rogers, you’ve been holding out on us! Is she pretty?”

Thankfully that’s when the shells began exploding around the plane because if he’d been giving the chance to speak, he’d regret it. The man was a playboy if he’d ever saw one. No, Howard Stark was _The Playboy_ and there was no way he’d let Stark near Tony for any reason other than for her engineering pursuits. Not after what had happened with the two timing scumbag Ty.

That and Tony would have never forgiven him if he’d punched her hero in the face.

* * *

“I saw her.”

“What?” Steve asked, looking up to where Bucky was situated on the side of the tank, taking his turn to rest while they continued moving through enemy territory.

“I saw her, I saw Tony in the isolation ward between Zola’s _visits_ ,” Bucky spoke softly and if it wasn’t for the super-soldier serum in his veins, Steve didn’t think he’d have been able to hear the words. “She’d told me to hang on, to wait a little long, reinforcements were on their way and would be there any day. That I couldn’t die, she didn’t give me permission to die. It was when she was begging me to live, tears staining down her face that I realized she wasn’t really there. Tony would never beg.”

“If she thought you were dying? I think she would.”

“Maybe, maybe not. But it was enough, it’s why I hung on long enough for you to save me.”

“You should tell her that in your next letter.”

Bucky’s next words had him freezing in midstride. “Next letter?”

“Please tell me you’ve been writing her,” Steve begged after jogging a few steps to catch up to the tank after he froze in his tracks.

“No,” dark hair swished back and forth slowly. “Have you?”

The face Steve made was enough for Bucky to know the answer.

“Shit,” the two said as one.

That was a third apology Steve owed Tony.

* * *

“What is this?” Steve asked as Gabriel – call me Gabe – Jones lead the newly formed team through the maze of hastily thrown up tents. Unlike the majority of them, Gabe didn’t stand out, his dark skin tone perfectly matched those of the soldiers around them. Some of them stopped what they were doing to salute Steve, recognizing him, while others hurried passed them, diligently fulfilling their duties.

“These are prisoners you helped liberated from the Hydra factory,” James ‘Jim’ Morita – the only other person who didn’t stand out – spoke up while elbowing James Montgomery Falsworth, Monty for short, in the ribs when he stared a little too long at a man with half his face missing.

“Why are they all the way out here, why not set up camp near the rest of us?” Timothy ‘Dum Dum’ Dugan inquired.

Jacques Dernier – or Frenchie as Dum Dum started calling the Frenchman last night during their celebration of ‘we’re-alive!’ which turned into ‘shit-we’re-going-back-out-there’ combined with ‘hell-yeah!-Captain-America-is-our-Commanding-Officer’ – sprouted something off in his native tongue. Gabe turned his head and rattled something else off in French which had the other man spiting to the side.

“What? What did he say?” Dum Dum asked, looking between the two.

“We’re black,” Gabe answered, however, when Jim cleared his throat, he quickly tagged on, “and not white. The rest of the white boys don’t appreciate sharing the same space as Negros and Japs even if we are fighting on the same side.”

“That’s not right,” Steve murmured out darkly, “you shouldn’t have to live like this.”

“Yeah, well you’re one of the few who think so,” Jim snorted, nodding his head in acknowledgment to a group of Asian-Americans walking by. “Most of the people here are the last of their squadrons and have been in captivity the longest. They’ll be shipped out in a few days for medical treatment. The few able bodies between them will be reassigned to a new squadron and sent back out to fight.”

“And this mechanic you spoke of? Will he be willing to join us?” Bucky asked, which brought Steve dark thought away from the horrid segregation he saw before him and back to the reason they were there in the first place.

During their drinking feast, Dum Dum had pointed out a need for someone with scientific knowledge on the team due to the futuristic weapons Hydra had on hand. They’d been lucky enough to liberate a few tanks and glowing blue ammunition without incident. Steve hadn’t seen the need at first. They did have Stark as a consultant but Monty had pointed out the unreliability of communications during combatant situations and the captain had conceded the point.

The problem with having a scientist on the team was that none of them were the sort to do well behind enemy lines. However, Gabe made mentioned a mechanic he knew who’d be willing to work with them, which was how they’d found themselves wondering through the makeshift camp nursing horrible hangovers. Steve was glad he’d only stuck to two drink and even if he’d grumbled about it all night, Bucky was relieved he’d followed the captain’s example.

“Hey Gabe, what’s with the white boys?”

“You’re one to talk, Riley, you pasty white ass son of a bitch,” Gabe greeted the pale skin, sandy blond hair man with an arm in a sling. Ambling next to him was a wiry dark skinned man, yet it was their uniforms which caught Steve’s eye, specifically the patch on their shoulders. They weren’t regular Army, they were apart of the Army Air Corps.

“Yet, I’m the one with all the dames.”

“That’s not how I remember last night,” the quip from the other flyboy had blue eyes focusing on him and Steve realized he knew this man. He knew both of them now that he got a good look, the sandy haired man had been one of the two men who’d shown him the way to the isolation ward in the Hydra factory.

“Sam! You wound me, my own wingman and you side with the foot troops over us flyboys?” Riley rounded on his friend.

“I just say it how it is,” the dark skinned man grinned, eyes sweeping over the group before landing on Steve and Bucky, recognition flaring in his eyes. Taking a step forward, he held his hand out between the two in invitation. “Corporal Sam Wilson, Army Air Corps, and this asshole is my wingman, Corporal Riley. What brings you to our neck of the war?”

“Captain Rogers,” Steve didn’t hesitate to shake the man’s hand, making sure to match his strength to keep from hurting him anymore than Zola’s isolation ward had inflicted upon him. “We’re looking to recruit one of you, a mechanic, for a special strike team.”

“A mechanic, huh?” Sam looked over at Gabe who met his eyes and gave a single sharp nod of his head before brown eyes turned back towards Steve. “Well, I hope you’re prepared to take two, because the mechanic follows Rhodes.”

“I don’t understand,” the captain frowned not getting the reference. The mechanic follows roads? That didn’t make much sense.

“You’ll want that tent over there,” Riley smirked, jerking the thumb on his uninjured hand behind him towards the furthest tent on the outskirts of the camp before clasping his hand on Sam’s shoulder. “I’ll go tell the rest of our flyboys, this is going to be good.”

The sandy hair man all but ran off after giving Steve a sloppy salute which Sam copied with a succinct ‘sir’ and followed at a slower rate after his wingman, shouting at him to slow the fuck down.

“What was that all about?” Bucky voiced the question on all of their minds, looking towards Gabe and Jim since they seemed to the only ones who knew what was going on.

“You’ll see,” Jim shrugged, heading for the tent and rapping his knuckles against the flap opening. A moment later a tall, muscular man with chocolate skin and a silver bar on his shoulder exited the tent. Wary eyes ghosted over the group gather outside his tent before settling on the short Japanese-American man.

“James,” the man rumbled out, nodding his head in greeting.

“James,” Jim mimicked the gesture.

“Oh God, thank the Lord, Tony isn’t here,” Bucky muttered underneath his breath with a grin, loud enough for Steve to give him a side long glance. “There four James here,” the brunet motioned to said Jameses, “think of the tizzy she’d had when there were only two Jameses in her life.”

The corners of Steve’s lips twisted upwards, but otherwise he didn’t show any emotions as Jim took the time to explain why they were here to the other James. The airman – apparently not the mechanic going by the dialog going on – nodded his head before excusing himself back into the tent, low murmurs which even Steve couldn’t make out drifted through the canvas before James came out yet again, this time, a slip of a man by his side.

This must have been the mechanic everyone was talking about. Although, neither Bucky nor Steve could get a really good look at him, what with him standing slightly behind James. He too wore the silver bar of a Lieutenant on his shoulder but most of his face was obscured by a battered dress uniform cap pulled down tightly over his head and his chin tucked down to meet his chest. Too large clothes dwarfed the petite man’s frame, but there was something special about him. The mechanic was only the second white man they’d seen in the camp.

“We’ll join you,” James said and Steve let out a sigh of relief he hadn’t even realized he’d been holding. That had gone a lot easier than thought it would. His relief was short lived by the next words out of the man’s mouth. “On one condition.”

* * *

“So, let me get this right. We,” Bucky wiggled his finger between the two of them, “have to beat them,” the finger was jabbed towards the other James and the mechanic on the other side of the ring of people forming around them, “in a fight?”

“Those were James’s terms,” Steve nodded, taking off his jacket and handing it to Dum Dum. The Scotsman almost dropped it, too busy making a wager with Jim concerning the outcome of the match and the captain couldn’t scold him because he wasn’t doing anything different than the rest of the crowd. He now understood why Riley and Sam had ran off, they’d been counting on the fight and were playing bookies at opposing sides of the ring.

“This is going to be too easy,” the sniper grinned, relieving himself of his own jacket.

“Both sides ready?” Sam asked taking center circle, looking from the Brooklyn natives over to the airmen. Both sides gave him a nod. “Then first team to fell both combatants win. Begin.”

Sam hastily backed out of the circle, the crowd hooting and hollering around them. Bucky, meanwhile, kept his eyes on the mechanic, figuring the other James would take on Steve since he was obviously the one in charge out of the duo. He was rewarded when the man made the first move, charging straight at Bucky. The sniper followed suit, intending to meet the attack head on. However, the flyboy ducked under his swing at the last second and continued onwards towards Steve.

Bucky didn’t have time to curse his mistake, not when a blow landed squarely on his left cheek, sending him stumbling backwards. He heard a grunt of pain from behind him and allowed himself a quick glance towards Steve to see the blond blocking a kick to the side. Bucky didn’t have time to yell at his friend for his sloppy block when he’d had to dodge a punched aimed at his kidneys.

Soon it was a game of cat and mouse, James throwing punch after punch at him while Bucky would dodge out of the way. His goal was to tire the flyboy out before he made his move and his plan was working. After a while, the James’s attacks weren’t as frequent and Bucky was no longer retreating backward. Instead, he held his ground, swaying his body out of the way and throwing a few jabs of his own.

“You tiring already flyboy?” Bucky taunted, holding his arms up, barely having any difficulty breathing as James took a step back, giving himself some room while he greedily sucked in gasps of air. The crowd around them grew even rowdier when Steve apparently caught the other airman in a hold, pinning him. “Ready to give up?”

“Not on your life, foot soldier,” James smirked, as if he was the one with the upper hand. The effect was ruined by his heaving chest.

“Really, cause ya ain’t lookin so good.”

“I don’t gotta look good. I just gotta keep you distracted.”

Bucky didn’t have time to contemplate what the man meant, not when a heavy weight crashed into him from behind, toppling him to the mud covered ground. A groan from above him and the feeling of a back pressed firmly against his was all the soldier needed to know it was Steve laying on top of him.

Later, he would learn Steve hadn’t gotten the upper hand when he’d locked the mechanic in a hold as the sniper had assumed. It was actually apart of a carefully devised plan in which the Lieutenant allowed the blond in and used the advantage of Steve’s hold and position to flip him to flip over the airman’s shoulder, flinging him into the sniper’s unprepared back. They’d gone down like a sack of brinks.

There was complete silence until all hell broke loss. The cheering ramping up to new levels which he thought Hydra might have been able to hear.

“Did we just loss?” Bucky turned his head to the side in order to spit out some of the mud in his mouth. His eyes watching as a pair of boots stroll around him and long fingers pluck the dress cap up off the ground before walking over to stand in front of his face. The owner of said boots then crouched down, arms resting on knees while the hat dangled before Bucky’s eyes.

“Yep, just goes to show you, I was right about small statures only being a disadvantage if you allow it to be. Size doesn’t matter if you know how to use your it to your advantage. Isn’t that right, Steve? Or should I call you _Captain America_ now?”

Two pair of blue eyes shot up, meeting the uncovered, familiar face of the mysterious mechanic for the first time since this whole didactical began.

“ _TONY?!_ ”

* * *

“You better be splitting that money with me Jim, or we’re going to have problems,” Tony held out her hand, flexing her fingers for her take of the winnings he’d liberated from Dum Dum. James – or apparently the allusive Rhodey (and God, Steve could have smacked himself for not catching that earlier) neither Bucky nor Steve had had the pleasure of meeting – was doing the same with Sam.

“We already have problems, _Toni_ ,” the Japanese-American roots showing through with how he pronounced the woman’s name. However, he dolefully counted out some of the bills and handed them over. “You never mentioned you knew Cap.”

“I don’t, I did know a skinny ass, asthmatic punk from Brooklyn who hung around with a jerk that joined the army and never wrote me a god damn letter, but never met Captain America good and proper before today,” the woman happily took the cash and started counting it. “Still I’d thought you’d bet on the Brooklyn Boys, everyone else did after they saw Captain America in action, even Riley, the traitorous bastard he is bet on them. See if I ever fix his wings again.”

“I bet on you,” Sam waved what remained of his cash after splitting it with Rhodes in her direction.

“Only because you were placing a bet for Rhodey,” Tony snatched the rest of his money out of his hands and added it to her own stack.

“Hey!”

“Restitution for what went down in France.”

“Fuck, I forgot about that. Remind me to break Riley’s other arm, that shitstorm was all his fucking fault,” Sam groaned, no longer trying to grab the money back.

“I’ll think about it,” Tony grinned, enjoying the pained looked on the man’s face as he took a seat on one of the crate in the supply tent they’d commandeered. Brown eyes turned away from Sam, to fix back on the man only slightly taller than herself. “So, you gonna let me out of here any time soon, Jimmy?”

“Sorry _Toni_ , but when both the Cap and Sarge tell me to keep an eye on ya while they clean up then that’s what I’m gonna do,” Jim shrugged not sounding the least bit apologetic and stood his ground by the tent’s flaps.

“Spoilsport,” Tony huffed, flopping backwards on the long crate she perched on which judging by the Stark Industries label, probably had a missile of some kind in it.

“Brat.”

“Ah, the Brooklyn Boys are back! And they remember I exist now!” Tony exclaimed in false enthusiasm, not even bothering to sit up, let alone turn her head towards the new arrivals. She did tilt her head even further back to grin at Rhodes leaning up against the support beam with his arms cross. “Rhodey, make a note of that, Captain America and Sergeant Barnes remembered lil’ old Tony.”

“Noted, should I get a secretary to dictate it too?”

“Naw, we have Sam as a witness.”

“Hey, leave me out of this.   I’m not about to get on Captain America’s bad side, not after he rescued us from the POW camp,” Sam held up his hands in defense.

“Gentlemen, could you please give us a moment? There’s a few things we’d like to discuss with our friend. Alone.”

“Yes sir,” Jim nodded, saluting Steve before going outside. Sam hesitate, looking between the blond and Tony, but a wave of the brunette’s hand had him ducking out of the tent after Jim.

A raised eyebrow directed at Rhodes had the man snorting. “Yeah, no. You might be the superior officer here, but not even a court martialing will get me to leave.”

“And that’s why you’re my favorite, platypus,” Tony cooed.

“Tony,” Steve gritted out, “this isn’t the time for your jokes. What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“Wow, I made Steve swear, this _must_ be serious.”

“We’re way passed serious, _brat_. This is the most reckless thing you’ve done. We’re in the middle of a _war!_ ” Bucky snapped, taking a step forward only to be met with Rhodes pushing himself off the support beam and uncrossing his arms.

“Really? I hadn’t noticed,” sarcasm dripped off of every word as Tony shifted to cushion her head with her arms, “and here I thought those big explosions were fireworks celebrating our arrival. Do you mean to tell me that the people shooting at us weren’t the welcoming commit? I hadn’t the faintest of ideas. Sugarplum, why didn’t you tell me we’re in a war?”

“I didn’t want to concern your delicate sensibilities, dollface,” Rhodes replied in the same tone, yet his eyes never left Bucky’s. Neither one of them willing to look away first. “I know how fragile your feelings are which was why I tagged along, to keep you from finding out about the war. Well, that and to escape the draft.”

“You allowed her to enlist?” the sergeant raged, hands tightening into fist.

“ _He allowed me?!_ ” Tony shot up into a sitting position, swiveling around to glare daggers at Bucky.

“ _I allowed her?_ ” Rhodes roared at the same time. “Fuck no! I _helped_ her, because unlike you assclowns who left and never bothered to write a single ‘I’m alive’ note _, I know Tony_. I know Tony well enough to know she’d find a way to get to the front lines with or without my _consent_. I came along to minimize the damage, to make sure she doesn’t _die_.”

“I can take care of myself.”

“I beg to differ,” all three men said at the same time then looked at each other with respect and a new found comradery.

* * *

“You weren’t surprised to see us,” Bucky commented after him and Steve had their bonding talk with Rhodes and headed to grab something to eat from the mess hall in the ‘white’ encampment.

Tony shrugged as she adjusted her hat to cover her face and slouched down behind Steve and Bucky to hid as a group of soldiers passed by. “I figured you’d be coming by sooner or later. I actually thought it’d be sooner rather than later after we were liberated from Zola’s care. Ouff.”

The air left her lungs as she ran into Steve’s back. She peered around him to see what was wrong but only found him frozen in place and when she turned to Bucky for answers, she found his face ashen.

* * *

“ _Anthony Edward_ _Stark_. She used _Stark_ as her cover name? Really?” Bucky seethed as he dug through his army issued trunk, no doubtable searching for the first aid kit he kept there. The heat behind his words and the way trembling hands pawed through his belongings told Steve his anger had nothing to do with Howard Stark. It was just a convenient excuse not to think of _Tony_ as a POW. That she had been there, in Zola’s isolated ward along with him and he hadn’t _known_.

Steve was not doing much better, sitting on his bunk, staring blankly at his hands while he went over and over that day in his mind. Remembering Riley and – who he now realized was – Rhodes running through the base and straight to the isolation ward. His eyes had been solely fixed on Bucky, yanking the straps off. Vaguely he’d remembered Riley pulling Sam off the bed next to the soldier, supporting his wingman’s weight, while Rhodes had picked up a limb body – fuck, that had been _Tony_ – furthest from him.

Steve had ordered them to go on ahead while he’d snapped Bucky out of the catatonic state only to lose sight of the four airmen when the base started coming down around him. Then he’d run in to Schmidt, the Red Skull, and he’d forgotten all about the four POWs. He hadn’t even considered if they’d survived or not and if they hadn’t, he’d never of _known_ Tony had died. No one would, because the few who knew her secret would have died along with her.

Rhodes had been right. Tony would have joined the war no matter who stood in her way. But, if he’d stand with her, have her by his side where he and Bucky could keep an eye on her, then he’d be sure she was safe. So while Bucky stormed off, back towards the separate encampment – he was going to subject Tony to an examination for any lingering injuries, since there was no doubt in either of their mind she’d skipped out on medical to keep her secret – Steve was going to go have a talk with a few of the higher ups about getting Lieutenant Anthony Stark and Lieutenant James Rhodes transferred to his team.

* * *

“You’re late,” Peggy snipped before Steve could even asked the blonde secretary reading the newspaper where he could find Stark.

“Had some business to take care of,” the captain shot her what Bucky called his ‘I’m-innocent’ smile. It seemed to have the intended effects as the frown slipped from her face, but she still looked suspicious. “Recruiting a few more members for the team.”

“I thought you’d already gotten your team together,” Peggy waved him to follow her.

“Thought it’d be good idea to have a couple of flyboys on hand, that way we wouldn’t have a repeat of Mr. Stark flying us through enemy air space.”

“You mocking my piloting abilities Rogers?” Howard Stark, wearing clothing better suited for a social gathering than working in a lab, spoke up from the lab table he was currently working at.

“No sir, just covering my basis in case you’re not available.”

“Always the strategist,” Stark shook his head, spinning around in his chair and grabbing something which when he turned back to face the two, revealing it to be Steve’s shield from his USO days. “I hear you’re uh…kinda attached?”

“It’s handier than you might think,” the captain shrugged as he joined Peggy by the inventor’s side, seeing quite a few different varieties of high tech shields laid out on the lab table.

Stark turned back around, setting the abused shield off to the side and gestured to the other high tech ones in front of him. “I took the liberty of coming up with some options. This one’s fun. She’s been fitted with electrical relays. It’ll allow you to-”

Steve’s eyes swept over the inventions laid out before him, letting the man inform him of the virtues of each shield without interruption, trying to commit everything he said to memory. He might not understand half of what Stark was saying but Tony would and she’d loved to hear all about the inventor’s numerous attempts at making him a shield. She might be jealous that he’d gotten something custom made by the man when he told her all about this later on.

At that thought, Bucky’s earlier rant about Stark came to mind followed by the incident on the plane and Steve quickly changed his mind. Tony didn’t need to meet the businessman, especially when she’d used his last name for her cover. That would be _a bad_ idea.

“What about this one?” Steve politely asked once the man had finished talking and failed to say anything about the round silver shield peeking out of the bottom shelf.

“No! No! That’s just a prototype!” Stark made a hasty attempt to grab the shield before him, but Steve was faster. He picked up the round piece of what he thought was steel yet it was surprisingly light.

“What’s it made of?”

“Vibranium. It’s stronger than steel and a third of the weight. It’s completely vibration absorbent,” the dark haired man rattled off the information, yet his eyes never left the shield, a sour look on his face when Steve spun it in his hands.

“How come it’s not standard issue?” Steve asked, failing to notice Stark’s displeased look as he slid his hand through the straps, feeling the weight of it on his arm. It felt good, right even, almost as if it was made for him.

“That’s the rarest metal on earth. What you’re holding there? That’s all we’ve got and I’d appreciate it if you’d put it down and chose a shield.”

Running his fingers of his free hand along the edge of the shield, Steve feel in love. “This one.”

“What? _No!_ ”

The venomous denial had Steve taken back and judging by the frown on Peggy’s face, she was too. “Why not?”

“It’s a prototype, it-” Stark sighed, running a hand through his perfectly styled hair as he fumbled for words to answer the agent’s question, “-it has sentimental value. It was the last project I work on with- before I left the States- you know what? Never mind. Keep it, Rogers, it’ll do more good out there with you than it would me, sitting here in the lab as a constant reminder. Just don’t break it, or we’ll have words.”

* * *

Colonel Phillips hadn’t been keen on Steve’s picks for his team, but he allowed it with the stipulation that when things went to hell, he’d get to pick the replacements. The colonel had been right about things going to hell part, but wrong on needing to replace any of the members of the Captain America’s chosen team.

Steve inspired loyalty between them, brought them together and under his leadership, they thrived. He was the symbol they all gathered around. The peck of human perfection with the Super Soldier Serum running through his veins allowing him to pull off impossible feats and made people _believe_. Yet it was his caring nature which had them following, not out of duty, but because it was the right thing to do.

Bucky was his undisputed second in command, despite there being others with a higher rank than him. Any oppositions were quickly quashed when he’d proven how deadly he was with and without his sniper rifle. The day he’d taken on Steve in an all-out friendly – by their standards – spar and he met the super-soldier blow for blow _and_ walked away with bruises was the day the whispering behind his back stopped.

Dernier was their explosive specialist. Given the right materials, he could make almost anything explode. Not to mention, he proved he was fearless when he threw himself under a tank to plant an explosive without blinking an eye. He also had a way with the ladies, which consisted of him getting drinks thrown in his face at every bar they’d gone to. The only exception was Tony, seeing how the two had a competition going on to see who could blow the most shit up or it might have been who could make the biggest explosion. No one was quite sure about that one.

Jim was their communication specialist and a trained Army Ranger. However, every morning, rain or shine, he’d be outside practicing his katas because he was apparently – as Tony so eloquently put it – an ass kicking _ninja_. The man had been able to take out five Hydra soldiers with nothing more than a spoon and his body during one of their raids that gone wrong. That had put a stop to Dum Dum trying to liberate food from him, one raised spoon and the redhead would be on the other side of the camp.

Gabe’s knowledge of both French and German came in handy as they traveled across Europe. However, his true talent laid in his skills as a musician and the fact he was an expert with guns. Okay, so the former wasn’t much of a help, but he’d insisted enough that it was easier to agree with him than to disagree. That being said, give Gabe any gun and he knew how to use it and used the various guns he did; a lot; and leaving many bullet holes in his wake.

Dum Dum had apparently been a circus strongman before he’d joined the army and was their brute force. He didn’t know any fancy fighting styles like Jim, wasn’t a boxing champ nor a super-soldier, but that didn’t stop him. His ability to take a beating and keep on walking had gotten them into and out of trouble in equal strides. Not to mention his ability to drink inhuman amounts of alcohol and still function when they were in trouble came in handy.

Monty was their jack of all trades, filling in wherever there was an opening or a need. His smooth talking saved them from spending a few nights in barns quite a few times and keep them from being outed to German troops. He was actually the ladies’ man of the team. Yet again though, with the exception of Tony, for some reason, he always stuck his foot in his mouth when talking to her. Much to the delight of the other team members and much to his own ire.

Rhodes – because only Tony got to call him Rhodey – was the best pilot they’d could have asked for and while he usually wasn’t with them on the ground, he’d flown them over enemy territory without damaging the paint job. Though, there was that one time he’d crash-landed the plane because of a bird. No one, absolutely _no one_ , was ever going to let him live that one down. When he was on the ground with them, he could put Gabe to shame with the amount of bullet holes left behind which earned him the nickname War Machine.

Lastly, there was Tony. None of them looked down upon her for being a woman, not after they’d seen her take down both Steve and Bucky. They’d actively held keep her identity a secret when the camera crews came around to film them for the people back home. It was an unspoken agreement that while Steve was in charge and Bucky was second in command, if Tony said to do something, it was done. That and if she was running away from something, they’d better follow since usually it was a good indication something was going to blowup curtesy of the brunette.

Together they were a team. Together they were the Howling Commandos.

* * *

“Remember when I made you ride the Cyclone on Coney Island?” Bucky asked, looking down the chasm and the steel line separating the mountain they were on and the one across the way with the railroad tracks snaking around its base.

“Yeah, and I threw up,” Steve grinned, securing his shield on his back.

“This isn't pay back, is it?”

“Now why would I do that?”

“Because you’re secretly a sadist and like seeing us in pain. And, I would like to point out, if this is an attempt at pay back as I know it to be, why am I being included as well? No one ever took me to Coney Island,” Tony handed her cap over to Dernier and did her hair up in a messy bun within seconds using only a length of electrical wire to hold it in place.

“Because we need someone on that train who’ll know how to shut it down without killing us all in a fiery ball of flame like Rhodes did with the plane,” Bucky rechecked the straps on the harness she was wearing and if Rhodes was there, he’d have some words for the sergeant. As it was, the man was flying towards the rendezvous point.

“And this isn’t pay back,” Steve insisted but neither of the two brunets believed him.

“You were right, Doctor Zola is on the train,” Gabe cut off anything else Steve had to say as Jim worked his magic on the knobs to the receiver as the walking armory leaned into the one headphone he’d palmed in his hand, acting as a translator. “Hydra dispatcher gave him permission to open up the throttle. Wherever he's going, they must need him bad.”

“Let's get going because they're moving like the devil,” Monty stepped over to help to help Tony buckle the harness to the back of the matching one Bucky was currently wearing. He got his hands slapped for his troubles.

“We only got about a ten second window. You miss that window. We're bugs on a windshield,” Steve prepared himself on the zip-line, waiting for the signal.

“Mind the gap,” Monty warned.

“And don’t drop me,” Tony tacked on as she wrapped her hands around Bucky’s neck and with the limited maneuverability the harnesses allowed her, jumped up to wrapped her legs around the man. The sniper grabbed her legs and made sure she was situated before moved behind Steve.

“Ready?” the captain inquired.

“As I’ll ever be,” Tony grumbled, peering over Bucky’s shoulder to look down at the abysses below. “Again, do not and I repeat, do not drop me.”

Blue eyes rolled but he nodded affirmatively. “Yeah, we’re ready.”

“Actually, no…no we’re not, I changed my mind, you guys go on without me. I’ll just stay here.”

“Too late, gotta get moving, bugs,” Dum Dum slapped Steve on the back, sending him hurtling down the line as a train came around the mountain bend.

“Hold tight,” was Bucky’s only warning before they were rushing down the zip-line right behind the captain.

Tony’s arms tightened around his neck and she let out a gasp when he let go and they dropped the last few feet. They landed on the speeding train, Bucky taking the brunt of the impact. However, within seconds, the weight at his back was gone and a glance backwards revealed Tony crouching down behind him and a bit further back was Gabe. With some difficulty, the Howling Commandos make their way across the top of the train towards an emergency ladder.

Steve headed down first, stopping long enough to signal to Gabe to take position there. The dark skin man nodded, kneeling down and pulling the gun Tony modified off his back. Bucky went after Steve and though Tony was supposed to wait a minute before following, she was right behind the Brooklyn Boys, sliding the door close.

All three of them had their weapons out, but the car they entered was empty save for boxes stack high, full of cargo. The door between this car and the next was wide open and Steve glanced back with an apprehensive look on his face. Bucky leveled his rifle at the door while Tony took positioned behind the sergeant, watching his back. A nod from Bucky had the captain moving through the door, gun held in one hand and shield at the ready in the other.

No sooner then he passed through the doorway then the doors separating the two cars slammed shut. He whirled around and uselessly slammed a shoulder into the metal door. Steve wasn’t sure if he was thankful or not for the small rhombus window giving him a glimpse of the muzzle flashes as Tony and Bucky took on a heavily armed squad of Hydra goons.

There wasn’t time to pry the door open, not when another Hydra agent came into the car he was in carrying what looked to be duel flamethrowers. However, the glowing blue fuel pack told him there weren’t going to be flames coming out that gun. He was already diving to the side, behind trunks of cargo, when the first blast whizzed by him. The blue blast sailed over his head and tore through metal of the car as if it was tin.

Another blast and Steve heard the whir of the weapon charging, leaving him a five second opening going off of Tony’s previous estimations. Dropping his gun, he charged forward, jumped up and grabbed a hold of the slide rail attached to the ceiling he’d noticed upon entering the car. His momentum did the rest, and though the Hydra agent did get off one more shot, the vibranium shield absorbed the blast, allowing him to plow into the enemy instead of sending him hurtling backwards. The Hydra agent was laid flat on his back and a jab of the shield had him out cold.

Steve didn’t take the opportunity to rest. Instead, he grabbed the second gun, now fully charged, and blasted the doors to the cars. The blue energy easily tore through the first reinforced door, but as he found out upon reaching the blown doorframe, the second door was only singed. On the other side, he could see Bucky taking cover behind a large box while shooting down the aisles of cargo. He didn’t see Tony but before he could worry, the door slide open and revealed the woman kneeling to the side with two wires head in either hand and a triumphant grin on her face.

A hand signal to the two brunets had them nodding before he rushed forward, using his shield to shove one of the long crates on the shelves. The crate slide forward and would have nailed the Hydra man in the chest if he hadn’t moved out of the way. Bucky’s perfectly aimed bullet didn’t miss and hit him dead center between the eyes.

“We had him on the ropes,” Bucky snorted leaving the safety of the niche and coming to stand beside the captain.

“I know you did,” Steve shot him a grin.

“This seems strangely familiar and yet not,” Tony snorted, drawing two pairs of blue eyes towards her and the blue glow coming through the doorway.

“Get down!” was the only warning Tony had before she was being thrown to the side and out of the way while the captain drew Bucky behind him and held his shield up.

Tony could feel the energy from the blast as it hurtled mere inches away from her face. Brown eyes watching helplessly as the shield held true – deflecting the blast towards the side and blowing a giant hole in car – but the man behind it was flung into the wall. The shield rolled away from the prone form of the blond and towards her. Yet, before she could scurry onto her knees and lunge for it, Bucky grabbed hold of it and moved so he was standing before her hunched over form, his backup piece in hand firing away.

Bucky emptied the clip within seconds but it wasn’t enough to pierce through the Hydra agent’s armor. A startled half gasp half cry left her as the whir of the gun finished and Bucky was thrown off her. She saw the shield and its user go flying in separate directions yet again. A scream was wrenched from her throat as the sergeant was pushed out of the gaping hole in the car.

Tony had thought he was gone, that he was dead. Then the unthinkable happen, for a brief moment, the splintered siding whipped far enough to the side for her to see him. Bucky, miraculously, was holding tightly to a damaged piece of railing, daggling thousands of feet above the cliff face as the train speed forward.

“Bucky!”

“I’ve got him!” Tony shout, this time already moving before the shield was picked up once more. The numbers in her head running faster than her body as she took in the speed of the train, factoring in the wind and the strength of the metal groaning under the strain of flaying against the side. It wouldn’t hold much longer, the metal giving under the pressure but there was still time. It wouldn’t give out yet, not for a few seconds longer even while factoring in her added weight.

“Hang on!” Tony shouted, grabbing hold of the rail, keeping her front pressed against the flayed siding, and inching her way out of the car into the harsh cold winds.

“What are you doing?!” Bucky’s shout was barely heard above the howling winds.

“Saving your ungrateful ass! Now, grab my hand,” the lieutenant shouted back, holding on as tightly as she could with her right hand out stretched. Fingers brushed against each other but couldn’t meet, but a bump jarred them, giving them the extra inch they need to lock hands to wrists. “Great, now’s the hard part. When I say when, I want you to let got and push off. I’ll swing us back in, ready?”

“No!”

“Too late. _When_.”

Bucky let go. He didn’t know if Tony’s slim frame could support his weight and swing them to safety. However, he didn’t have any other choice and the feeling of only a hand holding him up above an endless abyss wasn’t very comforting. He could see inside of the car now, the Hydra agent who’d shot at him laying in a puddle of his own blood. Desperately, he reached out to grab hold of the car’s ragged edge.

He missed.

Bucky was falling backwards.

Tony wasn’t letting go.

He was going to take her with him.

Then, there was a second hand wrapped around his left wrist, jerking him to a stop. Together, the hands on both of his wrists hauled him back up and into the safety of the car train.

“Bucky! I thought I’d lost your!” Steve voice was muffled as the blond pulled him into a tight embrace forcing him to let go of Tony’s wrist or risk breaking it. Pulling him away, blue eye looked at him seriously. “Don’t ever do that to me again.”

“Only if you take us to Coney Island when this is all over.”

“To ride the Cyclone?” the corner of Steve’s lips twitched upwards.

“To ride the Cyclone,” Bucky confirmed.

“Sounds great guys, but I don’t think I’ll be going,” Tony’s voice waivered causing two pairs of blue eyes to turn towards her. Only then did they noticed how she was bracing most of her weight against the frayed metal with one hand while her other clung around her breasts, right below a piece of metal sticking out of her chest. There were a few other spots laden with blood soaked stains from the shrapnel of the car entering her body but nothing compared to the jagged metal. “I-I think it’s the end of the line for me.

“Tony!”

“I-” whatever she had to say, neither Steve or Bucky would never know because her grip slipped as she swayed on her feet, eyes rolling back into her head, and she fell.

“ _TONY!_ ”

* * *

“Steve?”

“Yeah Buck?”

“I don’t feel anything.”

The captain snorted, leaning back in the dilapidated chair and running his hand over the countless overturned bottles they’d been able to scrounge up in the destroyed bar. A glance behind him at two more tables which were equally filled with empty bottles and passed out Howling Commandos confirmed his suspicions that they weren’t feeling anything. He just wished he could too, the void inside of him was eating him alive.

“That usually happens when you’ve drunken your weight in alcohol.”

“No Stevie,” the sergeant shook his head, emptying a third of the bottle he was on with one swig. “I mean I don’t feel anything. No buzz, no blissful numbness, nothing. I-I’m not getting drunk.” Glass shattered to the ground as blue eyes stared up at the brunet. “Stevie, what did they do to me? What did Zola due to me?”

Steve opened and closed his mouth, not being able to form words for the longest of time. Then, glancing at his own hands before looking over at his best friend. The only one he had left.

“Doctor Erskine said that the serum wouldn't just affect my muscles. It would affect my cells. Create a protective system of regeneration and healing which mean, I can't get drunk. My metabolism burns four times faster than the average person.”

They’d been friends too long for Bucky to miss what Steve wasn’t saying. “Bet Zola’s pissed off, his only successful super-soldier would rather kill him than be his assassin.”

* * *

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Tell you what?” Steve listlessly asked Peggy as she stroll through the boomed out bar.

“That Lieutenant Stark wasn't who _she_ claimed to be?” the agent didn’t beat around the bush.

“Zola squealed,” Bucky grunted in between swallows of beer. The alcohol might not have been affecting either of them physically, but the sniper pointed out it was a mental comfort.

“Zola squealed,” Peggy confirmed, eyes narrowing, “told us all about the girl masquerading as a soldier, said her mind was wasted on the front lines and she made the perfect assistant, no matter how unwilling. She’s why Sergeant Barnes survived from how Zola tells it, is that why you kept her secret? Because she saved your friend?”

This time, when one of the bottles shattered, it had nothing to do with being knocked off a table and everything to do with super-soldier strength.

“Agent Carter, I would suggest you hold your tongue on manners you know not,” Bucky set his own beer bottle down and pushed himself up off the table.

“Sergeant, this matter doesn’t concern you-”

“Bucky-” Steve and Peggy spoke up at the same time, but he cut both of them off.

“No, Agent, I think this matter does concern me. It concerns all of the Howling Commandos, she was our teammate, not yours. But it concerns me and Steve more,” Bucky grabbed hold of his compass – or it might have been Steve’s – laying in between the bottles on the table and flipped it open. He all but shoved the picture inside in the woman’s face, the black and white photograph was crinkled but the three face were clear if a little worn. What made the picture really stand out was the fact that Bucky had a pre-serum Steve under one arm with a younger version of Tony in an identical position under his other arm.

“Steve didn’t keep her secret because she kept me alive, she kept me alive because we’ve been friends before this goddamn war even began. She has more dirt on either of us for the stupid shit we used to get up to as kids that Stevie would sooner forget about than be reminded of and if that wasn’t reason enough for Captain America to keep her secret than it sure the hell wasn’t because she kept me alive in _Zola’s loving care_.”

“You knew her? Before the war? Both of you?” Peggy hesitantly asked, reaching out to trace Steve’s slim looking face in the photo before glancing at the well define one sitting solemnly in the chair a few feet away.

“Rhodes did too,” Steve tilted his head in the direction of the dark skinned man. The flyboy was pasted out at what remand of the bar, surrounded by countless bottles of whiskey with a single glass – still filled – situated in front of the barstool next to him. “Didn’t meet him until the war, but he was the closest thing she had to a brother. His ma, Mrs. R., looked after her.”

The agent let out a heavy sigh as the fight left her. “So you know who to send the condolence letter to.”

Both Steve and Bucky flinched, the latter of whom dropped heavily into his chair and picked up a mostly full bottle of what could have been alcohol or some kind of rotgut. Either way, it wasn’t going to affect him

“We’ll also need to know her real name.”

This time, despite Steve’s misgivings about drinking alcohol when it did nothing for him, the captain grabbed the bottle from Bucky and downed it. Because neither one of them knew Tony’s full name, they never needed to. She had always been their Tony.

“Anthony Edward Stark.”

Three heads turned towards the door where Howard Stark was leaning heavily against the brunt out frame, his usual immaculate appearance was shot, his hair disheveled, expensive clothing covered in dirt, and a bottle hanging loosely in his right hand. The man took a long draw from the bottle before stumbling over to the table, exchanging his now empty bottle for one with a few dregs of amber liquid at the bottom.

“Howard, what’s the matter with you?” Peggy’s disapproving voice was back as the man sat down in the chair across from Steve, eyes fixated on the still open compass laying innocently on the table.

“Shoulda figured sometin was amiss, specially when the letters knew just a lil’ too much,” Stark slurred, completely ignoring the agent. “But genius! So I brushed it off, more `portant tings to do. But you two-” the man wiggled one of his figures around the neck of his bottle at the two soldier “-I shoufa _known._ You’re all she’d talk about when we’d talk, but I missed that. I missed her.

“My Italian wasn’t so good,” Stark randomly stated after drinking the last of the amber liquid. “I miss understood Maria – god rest her soul and fuck the Great War to hell for taking her away from me-us too soon – when she told me, but the name stuck. I only wish I’d been around more for her growing up, but Stark Industries took up so much time. I wanted to make sure the country was protected, to keep the people safe, to keep her safe and _I failed_.

“You asked her name, Agent Carter?” the man reached in his breast pocket and produced an engraved silver cigarette case and pulled out a battered picture from inside. He flipped it around and set it next to the compass’s picture for all of them to see a smiling Howard Stark and a dolled up young woman with long flowing hair on his arm.

“Her name was Anthony Edward Stark and she was my daughter.”

* * *

“Arrogance may not be a uniquely American trait,” the Red Skull gloated to his bound captives. “But I must say you and your sidekick do it better than anyone. But, there are limits, to what even you can do, Captain. Or did Erskine tell you otherwise?”

“He told me you were insane,” Steve gridded out, having to restrain himself form shattering the manacles holding him and ripping apart the Hydra goons surrounding them to reach Schmidt.

“Never met the guy, but I’d have to agree with him. I ain’t no one’s sidekick, especially this punk’s,” Bucky spat out and earned a punch to his face for his troubles. The chains separating his hands gave a groan and look from blue eyes had him rolling with the punch instead of doling out a few of his own. He could do that later, after the plan had been set in motion.

Schmidt didn’t even pay Bucky any attention, the sniper beneath him, instead he kept his eyes locked on Steve’s restrained form. “He resented my genius, and tried to deny me what was rightfully mine. But he gave you everything. So. What made you so special?”

“Nothing. I'm just a kid from Brooklyn,” the blow to the face he received was much harder than the one Bucky got, but he didn’t feign pain. His head did snap to the side due to the force and he just turned his head right back towards the hideous red visage. The action apparently angered the Red Skull and he landed yet another and another and another punch, each time, Steve held his head up in defiance. “I can do this all day.”

“Oh of course you can, of course,” Schmidt sneered, finally having enough, “but unfortunately I am on a tight schedule.”

“So are we,” Bucky grinned, leg darting out and sweeping three out of four guards surrounding him off their feet and before any of them could react, the rest of the Howling Commandos burst through the window like avenging angels.

* * *

“Come in this is, Sergeant Barnes. Do you read me?” Bucky flipped the switches he thought might be part of the radio while Steve desperately tried to fly the failing _Valkyrie_. They’d done a lot more damage to the gigantic airplane than they originally thought. Then again, it might have something to do with the explosive charge Howard had given them and the sniper had planted near the center of the plane.

“Sergeant Barnes, what is your-” whoever was on the other end of the line was quickly thrown off.

“He’s dead, Barnes tell me the son of a bitch is dead,” Howard’s voice blasted through the radio.

“Schmidt's dead,” Steve confirmed, the radio picking up his voice even without the sniper doing anything because in the next second, Peggy was on the channel.

“Steve is that you, are you all right?”

“What about the plane?” Howard interrupted anything further the agent had to say.

Bucky and Steve shared a look before the captain took over. “That's a little bit tougher to explain.”

“Give me your coordinates, I have Rhodes here with me, we'll find you a safe landing site,” the man’s voice was beginning to be obscured by static, they were getting too far away. Soon they’d be out of radio range and too close to New York for either of the Brooklyn natives liking.

“There's not enough time,” Bucky spoke too low for the radio to pick up, shaking his head as he looked out into the watery ice filled landscape. There was a determined look in his eyes and with a sharp nod to his captain, his best friend, they both came to the same conclude. They were both ready for the inevitable outcome.

A nod back at the sniper and Steve spoke to the man on the other end of the line with a determination in his voice that was unwavering. “Howard, there's not going to be a safe landing. This bird’s heading straight for New York with a payload that’ll whip out the city, if not the whole state. It’s moving too fast, right now we're in the middle of nowhere, if we wait any longer a lot of people are going to die. I’m gonna to try and force it down. This is our choice.”

There was silence on the other end of the channel save for a few stifled sobs coming from Peggy.

“Rogers, Barnes,” Howard’s solemn voice addressed them. “If you see her, tell her I'm sorry for not being a better father. Tell her that for me, please.”

“We will. I promise, Tony will know how much you love....”

“Rogers? Barnes?”

* * *

He didn’t expect to wake up to a baseball game playing on the radio in the background laying on an uncomfortable bed in a chilled room which smell of his mother’s uniform after a hard day at work. Steve didn’t expect to wake up at all. He especially didn’t expect to open his eyes and look around the room to find a bed, the twin of his own, with Bucky sitting up on it wearing a too tight shirt with one sleeve pinned up and his right hand fumbling with a black band of some sort between his fingers.

“Good Morning. Or should I say, afternoon,” the sniper gave a halfhearted smile upon seeing him awake.

“Oh my god, Bucky, what happened to your arm?” Steve croaked out, his voice scratching from disuse as he pushed himself up and stumbled the few feet across the open space to sit next to his friend.

The brunet shrugged the shoulder not currently missing an arm. “The crash wasn’t so kind to me as it was to you. There was nothing they could do to save it and me, so they decided to loss the arm and save me instead. Can’t say I really blame them with the options available, but the nurses tell me I’ll be fine and hey, maybe I could get me one of those artificial ones like we saw that one Hydra agent wearing. You know, but only better.”

Steve hummed at what Bucky was saying, watching as the sniper grip tightened and loosened around the object in his hands. “Where are we, Buck? What happen?”

“We’re in a recovery room in New York City,” the brunet sighed as the radio announced the Dodgers taking the lead. “War’s over, been over for a while, they apparently dropped Hydrogen bombs on Japan while we were frozen under the ice. And hey, soldiers who apparently have been injected with questionable substance and given superhuman abilities can apparently survive being froze in the ice without any problems.”

Steve took a deep breath before asking. “How long?”

“Seventy years, Stevie, we’ve been frozen for seventy years.”

* * *

_**Alternative ending:** _

Steve didn’t feel excited or happy despite the occasion calling for celebration. After everything he’d been through, that they’d been through, he should have been relieved even be alive to rejoice. Howard Stark, the genius he was, had been able to find the _Valkyrie._ However, it had been equal parts the elder Stark’s genius and his young daughter’s genius that saved Captain America and the Winter Soldier as the paps had taken to calling Bucky after their icy trip.

Even in death, Tony was looking out for her Brooklyn Boys for what Bucky had thought to be an ordinary chunky black bracelet which he’d clung to after it slipped off of the brunette’s wrist and into his hand moments before her death was actually a transmitter. The genius had built it after her time as a POW to go off if she hadn’t clicked it once in a seventy-two-hour period it would activate. She’d know her father could pick up the signal and he did, he found them frozen in a thin sheet of ice. It was just luck the transmitter bracelet hadn’t been damaged in the crash as it had been fastened to the arm Bucky had ultimately lost.

The _Valkyrie_ had been found and now that the war was official over, the Howling Commandos were being honored with Congressional Metals of Honors. It would be the first time all of them would be together after Bucky and Steve crashed the plane – well almost all of them – and V. E. Day had broken them up to help with various efforts.

Dernier had gone back to France to help the French Resistance and check on his remaining family. Gabe had gone with the Frenchman to lend a hand and to get his head on straight after living through what they had. Monty traveled to his hometown before moving around Britain to assist in any way he could, somehow earning the nickname Union Jack. Dum Dum and Jim had stayed together, continuing the work the Howling Commandos had started with the help of various branches of the military yet they always seemed to end up as just the two of them after a mission was complete.

Rhodes had requested a leave of absence from the military which was denied when they found out he was going off to search for Anthony Stark’s body. Instead, they sent him off on the same mission in hopes of earning some bonus points with Howard for bringing back the body of his only child. There’d been regular updates from him for three months and then radio silence.

The rest of the Commandos had feared he’d been lost to them too, but the thought was quickly pushed from their minds when Howard announced he found the _Valkyrie_. It was only months after the two supersoldiers had been defrosted that a message from China – of all places – came from the missing flyboy with him. The letter had been nearly illegible, but the gist of it had been Rhodes was coming home. Hence why Steve was waiting out front to meet them before the ceremony could start.

“Hey Captain!” turning behind him, the blond was surprised to find a set of flyboys walking towards him. Their dress uniforms looked immaculate on their cleanly shaven faces and without the filth of the frontlines smeared across their faces it took Steve a moment to recognize them for who they were.

“Riley, Sam, it’s good to see you,” Steve greeted the two.

“Good to see you too, Captain, especially under better circumstance,” Sam smiled, shaking the man’s hand.

“And let me be the first to congratulate you on being a recipient of the Metal of Honor,” Riley gave a lopsided smile, “your whole team deserves it.”

The captain didn’t flinch, but it was a near thing. The whole team did deserve the metals, but they weren’t all there to be receiving the award. Instead of wallowing in the depressing trail of thoughts, Steve changed the subject.

“What are you doing out here? Shouldn’t you be getting seated?”

“We were heading that way, but Gabe stopped us to deliver a message for you. A call came through from Rhodes via Mr. Stark’s line, apparently there was a minor accident and they’re running a little late,” Sam said, giving his wingman a slightly disapproving look. “They’ll be here in time for the ceremony but not before.”

“Thanks for passing along the message, I better be heading back inside and get ready before they come looking for me then,” Steve nodded.

“Catch up afterwards?” Riley asked.

“Sure, we’ll be headed to the Stork Club, you know the place?”

“Yeah, we’ll meet you there,” the blond flyboy confirmed before they parted ways and the captain staying outside for a bit longer, looking up at the sky before heading inside. It was a whirlwind of bustle after that which reminded Steve heavily of his days in the USO. There were even a few of the choir girls in the crowd he’d noticed, but he didn’t have time to stop to chat with them. There was too much to do.

Finally, the ceremony began and much to Steve’s dismay, Senator Brandt was the opening speaker. Thankfully, even while standing at attention behind the podium, Bucky was able to keep up a running commentary of the preposterous show-off that was the senator. It kept him distracted until the man was beginning to call out the recipients of the award. Although, he didn’t look too pleased when he gave the metals to Gabe, Rhodes – who’d slipped into formation only seconds before the ceremony began – and Jim, which made Steve and Bucky grin even wider. The stuck up asshole needed to be taken down a few pegs and if that meant presenting metals to people of color who deserved it, then so be it.

“Lieutenant Anthony Stark,” Senator Brandt called and if they weren’t standing at attention in front of a crowded room full of people and reporters, the Howling Commandos would have gone ridged and glared. All metals to be awarded posthumously were supposed to take place near the end of the ceremony. However, the bastard had taken out the metal and was waiting for someone to step forward so he could present it, looking rather impatient when none of the men stepped forward.

For a moment, the whole room fell into silence, a silence which was broken by the sound of an unsteady clicking of heels on the marble floor. All heads turned towards the back entrance where a blue light slowly grew brighter as a lone figure clad in a slightly altered dress uniform made for a man but worn by a woman came through the entrance. The sling wasn’t standard issue but no one seemed to notice it, not when she headed straight for Senator Brandt, stopping right in front of the man but saluting the stalk still Howling Commandos who wore matching expressions of disbelief – save for Rhodes’s gleeful smirk – behind him.

“Lieutenant Anthony Stark reporting for duty, sir.” 

**Author's Note:**

> I didn't want to give away Tony was a female in the tags but I also want people to know it's a fem!Tony story. Any suggestions?


End file.
